


amnesia and déjà vu

by midnightslug



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blowjobs and Sex!, It's Soft As Hell!, M/M, Romance and All That!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightslug/pseuds/midnightslug
Summary: Richie Tozier meets a handsome boy who seems familiar. (Edit: fixed style errors in rich text)
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	amnesia and déjà vu

**Author's Note:**

> I said Stan and Richie rights and I MEANT it! 
> 
> Today's song is: listen before I go by Billie Eilish

"Right now I’m having amnesia and déjà vu at the same time. I think I’ve forgotten this before."

-Steven Wright

  
  


* * *

  
  


Richie walked down the cobblestone strip through the courtyard, muttering to himself as he left English class. His teacher hated him, and he didn't know what to do about it. The official advice from his father had been to keep his head down and power through, but Richie had never been the keep your head down type, and honestly, the harder he tried, the more his personality rallied against it, and he got in more trouble. 

  
  
  
  


Today, his professor had told him- well, the whole class, really, but it was directed at him- to go see the school counselor and get screened for ADHD. As if he had time for that- he hadn't even done laundry since he'd gotten to school. He'd just been buying new underwear and cycling some slightly ill-fitting, older clothes into his wardrobe. 

  
  
  
  


He was recounting all this to himself, long hair in his eyes, and headphones blasting out Tears for Fears, one of the only tapes he had. His roommate gave him a lot of shit about still using a Walkman, but Richie said at least it fit in his pocket and didn't skip when he ran. 

  
  
  
  


He was humming along to the music when his foot caught on something, and he landed on his face on the cobblestone. 

  
  
  
  


"Oh, oh gosh I'm so sorry!" Someone said above him. 

  
  
  
  


Richie rolled over with his eyes closed. "Yeah, don't fucking worry about it." 

  
  
  
  


"Oh, gosh… you're bleeding." 

  
  
  
  


"I am?" 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah, your chin is really, uh-" the voice trailed off. 

  
  
  
  


Richie opened his eyes. Standing over him was a gorgeous and frazzled guy, who looked like he was about to faint. 

  
  
  
  


Richie hopped up quickly. "Woah! We don't both need to fall, dude!" He said, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

  
  
  
  


The guy was holding a map of the campus and it crinkled as his arms went weak.

  
  
  
  


Richie looked at him in confusion. It was the middle of the semester… who still needed a map to get around? 

  
  
  
  


"Uh, hey, are you new here or-" 

  
  
  
  


"We-we can discuss it once you take care of that." The guy said, pointing at Richie's chin. 

  
  
  
  


Richie looked down. The blood had dripped onto his shirt. 

  
  
  
  


"Right. Shit. Sorry." 

  
  
  
  


"No, it's my fault…" the guy said, thinly, following Richie to the bathroom. 

  
  
  
  


Richie grabbed a wad of paper towels and held them tightly against his chin. 

  
  
  
  


"Better?" 

  
  
  
  


The guy shrugged. 

  
  
  
  


Richie snapped in front of his face. 

  
  
  
  


"Woah, your lips are pale. What's your name? Do you remember your name?" 

  
  
  
  


He nodded. 

  
  
  
  


Richie laughed. "Okay, can you tell me what it is?" 

  
  
  
  


He nodded as he slid down the wall into a seated position. 

  
  
  
  


"Stanley." 

  
  
  
  


Richie sat beside him. "First or last name?" 

  
  
  
  


"First. Stanley Uris." 

  
  
  
  


"I-" Richie felt like he'd been struck in the head with a cinderblock. Whatever this was, it hurt worse than falling. His eyes felt hot and strange. His contacts were irritating him. 

  
  
  
  


"Uris?" 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah." 

  
  
  
  


Richie floundered, pointing at himself and finding every word he tried to say dying on his tongue. 

  
  
  
  


"Richie Tozier." He finally got out.

  
  
  
  


Stan's head snapped around, eyes wide. 

  
  
  
  


"Trashmouth?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie laughed. "Dude, what the fuck…" his head felt so foggy. "Did I do something to you when we were kids? Are you back here to kill me?" 

  
  
  
  


Stan's breathing was rapid. He looked scared. 

"Honestly I had no idea-" _ who you were _ . "you went here."

  
  
  
  


"Oh, I knew I'd end up in a hellhole, I just think everyone had higher hopes for you." Richie said, rubbing his eyes. 

  
  
  
  


"Oh, gosh. Are you really okay? You're crying. Oh, I'm so sorry, I-" 

  
  
  
  


"No, my contacts are just irritating me. It's okay." Richie took off his backpack. He dug around in it, but he couldn't see. 

  
  
  
  


"Can you do me a favor? There should be a glasses case in there." Richie said, leaning his head back and blinking. 

  
  
  
  


Stan dug around for a moment, then found it in the front pocket. He held it out, but Richie wasn't looking.

  
  
  
  


Stan grabbed his hand to put the case in it, and Richie jolted, like he'd been shocked. 

  
  
  
  


"Are you okay?" Stan asked, pretending he didn't feel something strange too. But it seemed to have struck Richie more severely. 

  
  
  
  


He snatched the box away, like Stan's touch was painful. 

  
  
  
  


"Th-thanks." Inside the case was a large pair of glasses and a smaller case for contacts. 

  
  
  
  


Stan had to look away as Richie took them out. Stan absolutely couldn't stand the way it looked. The thought of people touching their eyes. 

  
  
  
  


Richie pushed his glasses up his nose, and put the case back in his bag. 

  
  
  
  


"Were you always this squeamish?" He chuckled. 

  
  
  
  


Stan bit the inside of his cheek. "I guess. I don't… I don't really remember either." Stan said, with a shrug. 

  
  
  
  


He looked at Richie, who was staring down at his hand. 

  
  
  
  


"What?" 

  
  
  
  


"Scar…" Richie mumbled. 

  
  
  
  


Stan looked down at his own hand and opened it wider. The scar, long and deep across his hand. The one he only seemed to think about or notice when other people pointed it out, and that was rare. 

  
  
  
  


Richie held his own hand up, palm facing Stan. A matching scar. Cleaner, less jagged, but running down his palm at an angle, just like Stan's scars. 

  
  
  
  


"I- we-" Stan sputtered. His head was aching. "Richie, there's blood all over your chin again." 

  
  
  
  


Richie had all but forgotten about the cut. "Oh, shit." 

  
  
  
  


He stood and looked in the mirror. He grabbed some paper towels and ran them under the water, then dabbed at his chin. 

  
  
  
  


Stan sat in the corner, looking down at his hands. He wanted to remember something. It was like he was on the precipice of remembering something enormous, something important, something- 

  
  
  
  


"There we go!" Richie declared, wadding up the paper towels and tossing them in the garbage. "The cut isn't even that big, nothing to worry about." 

  
  
  
  


Stan nodded and stood. 

  
  
  
  


"I think I have some bandages." Stan said, taking off his own backpack and rooting through it. He pulled out a small first aid box.

  
  
  
  


"What are you, a fucking Boy Scout?" Richie laughed. 

  
  
  
  


Stan tilted his head. "Eagle Scout." 

  
  
  
  


He stood, holding a bottle of antiseptic cream and a few bandages. He handed the bandages to Richie, who started to unwrap one. 

  
  
  
  


"Wait a sec, look at me." 

  
  
  
  


Richie looked up and Stan dabbed some antiseptic cream onto his cut. 

  
  
  
  


Richie stared at him with wide eyes. He didn't jerk away from Stan's touch this time, but there was still a change in the atmosphere when skin met skin. 

  
  
  
  


Stan backed away slowly. "Th-there you go."

  
  
  
  


"Thanks." 

  
  
  
  


Richie put the small bandage on his chin, still giving Stan an odd look. 

  
  
  
  


Stan realized his breathing was a little hollow. His face felt warm. He turned away from Richie to pack things back into his bag. 

  
  
  
  


"Uh, what are you doing here, anyway, Stanley?" 

  
  
  
  


"Well, I was here for a dorm tour. I'm transferring and I'm checking out new schools, and-" Stan stood back up with his backpack on. "Well, no one showed up to give me the tour, so I just started walking around campus." 

  
  
  
  


"Dude, if you need to see a dorm, you can just come look at mine! It's a shithole. And I got it by being an honors student!" 

  
  
  
  


Stan laughed. " _ You're _ an honors student?" 

  
  
  
  


"Oh, don't pull that shit with me, Stan. Or did you forget who helped you in math in the 7th grade?" 

  
  
  
  


"Actually, yeah, I did." 

  
  
  
  


Richie laughed. "I didn't realize I remembered it either, actually…" 

  
  
  
  


Richie picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Alright, let's get your tour going. The dorm isn't far." 

  
  
  
  


Stan followed Richie out of the bathroom and through the courtyard. They took a shortcut through a parking lot and they were in front of a large, white building with two grand pillars. 

  
  
  
  


*Don't let that fool you." Richie said, as he ushered Stan inside the building. "Everything inside is made of concrete, except the floors, and they're all too cold unless you're here on the ground floor, because the boiler room is under there." 

  
  
  
  


"And you said… this is one of the nicer dorms?" Stan asked, staring at one of the flickering florescent lights overhead. 

  
  
  
  


"I'll put it to you like this: I share a room with a guy who is here from some other country on a full scholarship to play soccer." 

  
  
  
  


"Oh, wow."

  
  
  
  


Richie pressed the button for the elevator, and it screeched as it came down. 

  
  
  
  


"Is that safe?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie shrugged. "Nobody's died on it yet." He said, as he walked in. 

  
  
  
  


"Yet…" Stan whispered, but he followed him. 

  
  
  
  


It seemed like it took an eternity to make it up two floors, Stan jumping slightly at every lurch and jolt of the elevator. Richie was grinning and giggling. 

  
  
  
  


"Shut up." Stan said, but he couldn't help but smile back. Richie's smile was just infectious. 

  
  
  
  


Richie exited the elevator and then extended his hand toward Stan. 

  
  
  
  


"It's a step down." 

  
  
  
  


"What?" 

  
  
  
  


"Just take my hand, Stanley." 

  
  
  
  


Stan did so, and stepped out of the elevator, his stomach jumping as he fell through the air for a second. 

  
  
  
  


Richie grabbed his arm and steadied him. 

  
  
  
  


Stan turned around and saw, just as the elevator doors were closing, that the elevator had stopped about a half a foot too high.

  
  
  
  


"Fuck." 

  
  
  
  


"You okay?" 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah, thanks for the uh…" Stan looked at their hands. He'd locked his fingers into Richie's in a moment of fear. "Help." 

  
  
  
  


Richie dropped Stan's hand and turned in his heel. "No prob, Stan. My room's this way!" 

  
  
  
  


Stan had to jog for a second to catch up with him. 

  
  
  
  


On the door was an orange piece of paper shaped like a star with the name Jörg in big block letters. 

  
  
  
  


Beneath it was a yellow diamond shape where "Richie" had been crossed out, and the words DOCTOR DICK MUNCHER, MD had been written under it in red ink. 

  
  
  
  


Stan pointed at it. "I didn't know you got a medical degree." 

  
  
  
  


Richie grunted slightly. "Yeah… I don't know who did that, but I have the sneaking suspicion Jörg's English is better than he lets on." 

  
  
  
  


"Want me to break into school records and do handwriting analysis? I got a badge for that in the scouts." 

  
  
  
  


"They have a badge for that?" Richie asked, finally done fiddling with the lock

  
  
  
  


"They have a badge for everything." Stan said, as he stepped into the small room. 

  
  
  
  


Much to his surprise, Richie's side was the tidier one. 

  
  
  
  


"So… this room is uh-" 

  
  
  
  


"Small?" 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah." 

  
  
  
  


"At least it has a window. I think that's the only thing keeping me from going insane. 

  
  
  
  


The room had an odd set up. There were two very plain wardrobes right when you walked in. Behind them were the beds, each with a desk beside it against the back wall, under the window. 

  
  
  
  


"I like the uh, symmetry." Stan said. It was the nicest thing he could come up with. 

  
  
  
  


Both sides of the room would have been perfect mirror images of each other, but Richie had hung up plenty of posters and Jörg had...left his laundry everywhere. 

  
  
  
  


"Well uh… you turned a full circle, so that's the end of the tour, I guess." Richie let his backpack fall to the floor and kicked it towards his bed. 

  
  
  
  


"So what's your plan, Stan my Man?" 

  
  
  
  


"Huh?" 

  
  
  
  


"Like… are you going to do anything in town or…"

  
  
  
  


"Oh. Uh, no I hadn't planned on it. I was- I was supposed to get to stay in the empty dorm, you know? So I was just going to read and go to sleep early so I could catch my bus tomorrow." 

  
  
  
  


"Shit. What are you going to do now?" 

  
  
  
  


"Do you think they'd let me sleep on the couch in the common room?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie rolled his eyes. He stepped forward and pushed the straps of Stan's backpack off his shoulders. 

  
  
  
  


And that change in the air came again. They were so close. Stan wondered if they had been this used to being in each other's space as children, and they were just falling back into their usual habits. 

  
  
  
  


Then he caught a glimpse of Richie's eyes. Richie was staring at his lips. Stan swallowed loudly. 

  
  
  
  


Richie leaned back a bit, holding onto one strap of the backpack, and sat it in the ground. 

  
  
  
  


He took a big step back. "Listen, Stan, I'm not going to let you sleep on that nasty couch. You can sleep in my bed." 

  
  
  
  


Stan's breath hitched. "Where are you going to sleep?" He asked, sounding timid and panicked. 

  
  
  
  


"Jörg's bed." 

  
  
  
  


Stan turned his head to look at it, then turned back to Richie. "Where is Jörg going to sleep?" 

  
  
  
  


"In the fucking hotel they're putting him up in because they went out if town for some kind of special training. I don't fucking know where they are, I just know I have five more days without him." 

  
  
  
  


Stan nodded and didn't say anything. 

  
  
  
  


"Geez, you're stiff." Richie said, walking up to him. "I know this place isn't The Ritz, but you're not going to get bubonic plague either." He pushed Stan onto the bed. 

  
  
  
  


Stan laughed when he hit the mattress. "You could have just told me to sit, dingbat!" 

  
  
  
  


Stan sat up and got comfortable in the corner between the back of the wardrobe and the wall. He untied his shoes and tossed them off the side of the bed. 

  
  
  
  


"You want something to drink?" Richie asked. "That's what hosts are supposed to ask, right?" 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah. Uh, sure, what do you have?" 

  
  
  
  


"Riesling." 

  
  
  
  


Stan burst out laughing. 

  
  
  
  


"What?" 

  
  
  
  


"You seem more like a six pack of PBR guy. No offense." 

  
  
  
  


"Ah, well, it's been a while since you've seen me, Staniel. I've  _ matured _ ." 

  
  
  
  


Richie disappeared behind the wardrobe and came back with a large glass bottle and two plastic cups. 

  
  
  
  


Richie sat on the bed next to Stan, handed him a cup, and filled it to the brim. He did the same with his own. 

  
  
  
  


"Cheers!" He said, before throwing his head back and drinking half of it in one go. 

  
  
  
  


"Shit, Richie…" 

  
  
  
  


"What? It's a better buzz like that." 

  
  
  
  


Stan raised an eyebrow and sipped at his wine gingerly. 

  
  
  
  


"I know you're doing that out of spite." 

  
  
  
  


Stan smiled. "So you do remember me." 

  
  
  
  


Richie grinned. Yes, he did remember Stan. He was remembering more and more about Stan, and himself, with every passing second. It was overwhelming him. He wondered if Stan was going through something similar. 

  
  
  
  


"Riesling sucks, as it turns out." Stan said, handing his cup to Richie. 

  
  
  
  


"You see why I drank it so fast huh?"

  
  
  
  


Richie put his own drink on the desk before grabbing Stan's. He didn't have to, to get the cup from him, but something inside him wanted to test this moment, to see what Stan would do, so he brushed his fingers over Stan's as he took the cup from him. 

  
  
  
  


Stan could hardly hear anything over the sound of his own heart beat. 

  
  
  
  


Richie put Stan's cup on the desk quickly, then stared at him in rapt curiosity. 

  
  
  
  


They sat in the heavy air together for a moment, each just staring and doing a mental inventory of all the strange sensations in their hearts. 

  
  
  
  


"Your pupils are dilated." Richie said, quietly. 

  
  
  
  


"What?" Stan asked, eyebrows drawing together. 

  
  
  
  


"We just talked about it in psychology or...biology maybe? The teacher was trying to do this like,  _ fun facts _ thing and said some stuff." Richie leaned in closer. 

  
  
  
  


"So either you're terrified right now, or you're-" Richie seemed to lose his nerve. He leaned back slightly. "It might be a bunch of bunk…" he swallowed heavily. 

  
  
  
  


"No, what were you going to say?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie bit his lip and looked down. He took a deep breath, and scooted closer to Stan. 

  
  
  
  


"Either you're terrified or you're attracted to me." Richie said, with uncharacteristic bashfulness. 

  
  
  
  


Stan turned pink. He stared at Richie. He remembered Richie looking at his lips, and looked down at Richie's. His breathing was shallow. 

  
  
  
  


"Can it be both?"

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan…" Richie whispered softly.

  
  
  
  


Stan raised his eyes and saw how close Richie was leaning in. Richie reached up and brushed Stan's hair away from his face. 

  
  
  
  


Richie couldn't believe how beautiful Stan was. It was driving him insane. He wanted to sit and stare at him all night. 

  
  
  
  


Stan looked down at Richie's hand. He was bashful and flattered and- and he didn't know what to do. He gently grabbed Richie's wrist. 

  
  
  
  


Richie seemed frozen in time, his hand still lingering, barely touching Stan's hair. Stan leaned into his hand. The air was buzzing with electricity. This was it, this was the moment. Why wasn't Richie doing anything? Why wasn't he saying anything? 

  
  
  
  


Stan swallowed and found some courage. 

  
  
  
  


"Can I kiss you, Richie?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie licked his lips and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you can." 

  
  
  
  


Stan took in a deep breath and looked at Richie. He put his hand on Richie's neck and leaned in slowly, waiting for Richie to meet him. 

  
  
  
  


Richie closed the gap between them with much want. He tangled his hands into Stan's hair, and his kissing was sloppy and needy. 

  
  
  
  


" _ Stan… _ " he whispered. 

  
  
  
  


Stan tucked Richie's hair behind his ear. "Richie… do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" 

  
  
  
  


The dam was broken. Every moment of lingering touches and awkward eye contact from their childhood filled their minds. 

  
  
  
  


"I don't know." Richie said, turning red. "Probably as long as I have." 

  
  
  
  


Stan grinned. "Why didn't you ever… say anything or do something sooner?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie sighed. "I was scared, man. Of everything but especially of losing you." 

  
  
  
  


"Well… it's different now, isn't it?" 

  
  
  
  


"Is it?" 

  
  
  
  


Something was strange. He couldn't remember what or why, but there was a nervous feeling in his chest that once he got on the bus in the morning, he'd forget Richie again. They had already lost each other once. What was to stop it from happening again?

  
  
  
  


"It is. Because you can't lose me this time." 

  
  
  
  


Richie looked at him sadly. He knew what Stan meant. You couldn't lose something you didn't have. 

  
  
  
  


Richie sighed and took his glasses off, carefully placing them on his bedside table. He pushed his hair out of his eyes. Stan stared at him. 

  
  
  
  


"Can you even see me?" Stan asked. 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah." Richie said, putting his hands on Stan's face. "Yeah, I can see you." Richie trailed his hands down Stan's arms. He climbed over to Stan, with a leg on either side of him, and kissed him. 

  
  
  
  


He dipped down and kissed Stan's neck. He could feel the steady, heavy strum of his heartbeat against his lips. Stan inhaled sharply as Richie bit down slightly, and Richie grinned against his skin. 

  
  
  
  


_ "Beep beep." _ Stan said, his voice low and quiet. 

  
  
  
  


Richie brought himself face to face with Stan again, playing with his hair. "Oh, is that the safe word?" Richie asked, waggling his eyebrows. 

  
  
  
  


Stan sighed. "No, it means you're being a tease." He whispered, taking Richie's chin into his hand and pulling him into a kiss. 

  
  
  
  


Stan was grinding his hips up, just slightly. Hesitant but nearly involuntary. 

  
  
  
  


Richie slid his hand between their torsos, meeting Stan's pants with just the slightest bit of pressure from his palm. 

  
  
  
  


"Oh,  _ fuck _ ." Stan whispered, his face turned slightly from Richie's. Richie kept kissing the corner of his mouth for a moment, letting his hand move a little more. 

  
  
  
  


" _ Richie… _ " Stan moaned. 

  
  
  
  


There it was. That was it. That was what Richie wanted to hear. Something he would take to his grave as his personal gospel. _Stan_ _Uris_ wants _you_ , _Rich_. 

  
  
  
  


Richie took both his hands off Stan and leaned back. Stan's lips followed him for a moment, then he blinked when the contact was finally broken. 

  
  
  
  


"Richie?" 

  
  
  
  


"Stan. I want to make you cum." 

  
  
  
  


Stan swallowed slowly, and licked his dry lips. 

  
  
  
  


"Y-you do?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded. "Is that what you want?" 

  
  
  
  


Stan looked like he was in a trance. He nodded.

  
  
  
  


Richie started to undo Stan's belt. 

  
  
  
  


"You ever had another guy make you cum?" 

  
  
  
  


Stan shook his head. "N-no. Never a guy. Two girls, though." 

  
  
  
  


Richie raised an eyebrow. "At the same time? I'm impressed." 

  
  
  
  


Stan blushed deeply and rolled his eyes. "No, not at the same time, Rich." 

  
  
  
  


He glanced back down, transfixed on Richie unzipping his pants and pulling at them, then felt a strange embarrassment, a sudden shyness, and had to look away. 

  
  
  
  


Richie looked up. "Do you want me to stop?" 

  
  
  
  


Stan shook his head. "No, keep going." He took a shuddering breath in. "What- what about you?" 

  
  
  
  


"Have I ever had two girls at one time?* 

  
  
  
  


Stan let out a breathless laugh. 

  
  
  
  


"No, I uh…" Richie stopped for a second and looked into Stan's eyes. Why was this embarrassing? He wanted it so bad and it seemed like Stan did too, and they had talked about things like this before but now- it just felt different.

  
  
  
  


It wasn't just stupid jokes, locker room talk, or dirty limericks. It was an intimate discussion. 

  
  
  
  


"Never had anybody else uh-" Richie busied himself pulling Stan's pants down. 

  
  
  
  


"Can you uh, lift your hips?" 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah." He said, still staring at Richie with careful curiosity. 

  
  
  
  


"You've never been with anybody before?" Stan asked, quietly. 

  
  
  
  


"Well no, that's not it, I just-" Richie looked up at Stan's flushed face. "Never had anybody return the favor." 

  
  
  
  


"Oh." 

  
  
  
  


Richie sighed and propped himself back up. "Stan, let's stop the shop talk, okay?" He asked. 

  
  
  
  


Stan felt strange. Not being completely naked somehow made him feel more naked. His pants slumped around his knees and his shirt clung to him from a thin layer of sweat. Everything seemed surreal. 

  
  
  
  


Richie started kissing him again and suddenly it didn't matter. 

  
  
  
  


Stan rubbed Richie's hip, sliding his hand under Richie's shirt, up the line of his hip bone to his chest. 

  
  
  
  


Richie took his shirt off and started to pull at Stan's. As soon as it was off, Richie was kissing down his neck and chest and Stan's eyes fluttered shut. 

  
  
  
  


He made little hums and grunts of pleasure as Richie ran his hands and his mouth over his skin. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan, I think you'd be more comfortable if you laid down." Richie said, pushing some curls off of Stan's forehead. Stan nodded and shifted away from the wall. Richie got up off the bed, and Stan laid down, kicking his jeans off and onto the floor. 

  
  
  
  


Richie stood and stared at Stan's body. Stan stared at Richie's face. Richie's eyes were curious and soft. His lips curled into a gentle smile. He was transfixed, running his eyes over every curve and valley of Stan's body. 

  
  
  
  


"R-Richie?"

  
  
  
  


Richie looked at Stan's face and smiled. "Stan?" 

  
  
  
  


"Is something wrong?" Stan asked, a little self conscious, completely on display. 

  
  
  
  


Richie shook his head as he stepped out of his jeans. 

  
  
  
  


"Everything is peachy, Stanley."

  
  
  
  


Richie ran his fingers lightly over Stan's calf, up his thigh, and then- 

  
  
  
  


Diverted his course and laid his hand flat on Stan's stomach, rubbing up to his shoulder. 

  
  
  
  


Richie lowered himself onto the bed, on his hand and knees above Stan. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan, I want to make you feel good." He said, kissing him. "I want to make you feel so good that you never want to leave this room." 

  
  
  
  


Stan's breath hitched. Richie kissed him again, deeper, and ran his thumb over Stan's nipple. Stan gave a small moan into Richie's mouth. Richie pulled back and smiled. 

  
  
  
  


"I want to hear that again." He whispered. He lowered himself slightly,and ran his tongue over Stan's nipple, slowly, turning his head up to look at Stan and letting his bottom lip trail slowly, drawing out the sensation, his fingers playing with Stan's other nipple. 

  
  
  
  


Stan was breathing heavily and hollowly, the moans that escaped his mouth were soft and sweetly musical. 

  
  
  
  


Richie breathed out in satisfaction, still running his hands on Stan's chest gently as he kissed him at the junction of his neck and shoulder. 

  
  
  
  


" _ Fuck… _ " Stan gasped. 

  
  
  
  


"God, Stan…" Richie said, laying his forehead on Stan's. "Every sound you make, it's better than I ever imagined."

  
  
  
  


Stan regained some composure and smirked slightly at Richie. Maybe the playing field was more even than he thought. Richie had experience with this, but Stan had the advantage of being an object of affection. 

  
  
  
  


"Yeah? Did you imagine it a lot, Richie?" He asked, pushing his hand into Richie's hair. 

  
  
  
  


Richie turned red. "Stan…" 

  
  
  
  


Stan smiled and leaned up, whispering into Richie's ear so that his lips brushed against it. 

  
  
  
  


"You want me, Richie?" He asked, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded, his jaw slack. He didn't expect anything like this from Stan.

  
  
  
  


"Did you used to think about me when you were alone, Richie?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie swallowed audibly. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan, I-" 

  
  
  
  


Stan put his finger to Richie's lips, then ran his thumb down his bottom lip, cupped his chin and kissed him. 

  
  
  
  


"I want you to show me what you've thought about, Richie." 

  
  
  
  


Richie stared at him, his mind blank, faced with all his options, faced with all his freedom, faced with the shock that Stan was actually saying these things. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan, I want to do… whatever is going to make you keep making those noises." 

  
  
  
  


Stan laughed bashfully. Richie reached up for his little wall mounted bookshelf, and pulled out a Bible. A big Bible, the type you'd expect a pastor from Texas to have. Stan looked at him in confusion, until Richie opened the Bible and revealed that it was hollowed out. Weed, rolling papers, a few small baggies of pills, a pack of condoms, and a bottle of lube. He sat the Bible on the corner of his desk, so he could reach it from the bed, and pulled out the lube.

  
  
  
  


Stan thought he was about to uncap it, but he laid it on the bed.

  
  
  
  


Richie moved so that he was kneeling between Stan's legs. A flush rose on Stan's chest when Richie lifted his legs. 

  
  
  
  


Richie ran his hands up the juncture of Stan's legs to his hips. 

  
  
  
  


"Don't forget to breathe, Stan." 

  
  
  
  


Stan realized he was holding all the air in his chest and let out a deep breath. 

  
  
  
  


"Ready?" 

  
  
  
  


Stan nodded. His heart thumping blood into his veins with reckless abandon. 

  
  
  
  


Richie wrapped his hand around Stan's dick, and Stan's body stiffened in anticipation. 

  
  
  
  


Richie leaned down, bringing his lips to the head of Stan's cock, then taking it into his mouth. 

  
  
  
  


Richie started slowly, almost agonizingly so, then added some lube to his hand. 

  
  
  
  


The combination of Richie's hand and mouth were bringing Stan to a climax much faster than he would have ever liked to admit.

  
  
  
  


His face was pink, his breath was heady, a nearly steady stream of moans curses poured out of his mouth.

  
  
  
  


Richie could feel Stan wriggling underneath him with more urgency, could hear him growing louder and more needy. Richie sat up, still stroking with his hand, so he could look at Stan. 

  
  
  
  


Stan's head was thrown back, his arms were moving, never finding a place to settle, pressure building all inside his body, air filling his lungs and pounding against them, every moan making him breathe in faster and deeper. 

  
  
  
  


Then Richie stopped. Stopped moving all together and just looked at Stan's beautiful face, his pink lips open, his eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together. It was everything he'd imagined and more. 

  
  
  
  


Richie was snapped out of his little daydream by an urgent hand on his shoulder and a change in Stan's expression. He was red faced and confused, but his eyes still had the haze of lust and pleasure. 

  
  
  
  


"Richie… why did you stop?" He panted. "Are you alright?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie grabbed Stan's hand and brought it up to his cheek. "I'm perfect." He took Stan's hand and kissed his knuckles. "Perfect, perfect." 

  
  
  
  


He leaned down, kissing Stan's thighs and hips as he pumped his hand up and down Stan's cock. 

  
  
  
  


"Beep-  _ unh- beep _ , Richie." The moan in the middle stripped the phrase of any authority. 

  
  
  
  


"What's that, Stan? You think I'm being a tease?" Richie asked, gleefully.

  
  
  
  


Stan nodded vigorously. 

  
  
  
  


"Well, what do you want, Stanley?" Richie asked, pushing the teasing further. 

  
  
  
  


Stan looked Richie dead in the eyes. 

  
  
  
  


Richie's look dared him to say something. To say anything. Something sweet? Something authoritative? Something dirty? Stan didn't know. He was going to go with what felt natural. 

  
  
  
  


Stan licked his lips and inhaled. 

  
  
  
  


"Richie, I want you to shut your big mouth and put it to work on my cock." He tried. It came out with confidence, which Stan was grateful for, because bashfulness and embarrassment were nipping at his heels. 

  
  
  
  


Richie's hand tightened around Stan's thigh. If Stan could talk like that, turn him on like that… he wanted to see how far Stan could take it. 

  
  
  
  


"Show me how much you want it." Richie said, with a devious smirk. 

  
  
  
  


Games. Everything was a fucking game with Richie. Well, Stan was going to play. 

  
  
  
  


He reached up and tangled his hand into Richie's hair, pushing him down, and Richie grinned like the cat that got the canary. 

  
  
  
  


Richie's head bobbed up and down, he exaggerated every movement and sound, making it obscene enough to make Stan blush (more so), but he didn't take his hand out of Richie's hair. He guided him in moments of hesitation, not just with his hand, but with his voice. 

  
  
  
  


_ Faster. Deeper. More. That. There. Again. Richie. Fuck. Oh, God.  _

  
  
  
  


All these words in different order, different intensity, over and over, and most often it was  _ Richie, Richie, Richie.  _

  
  
  
  


_ That feels so good, Richie. _

  
  
  
  


Richie revelled in it, and when Stan's other hand came down and tangled into his hair, Stan's moans becoming more incomprehensible, Richie was ready. 

  
  
  
  


Stan groaned out, his breath stuttering and his hips rising as he finished. He collapsed back with one final moan, and looked down at Richie. 

  
  
  
  


Richie was looking up at him with lustful eyes, and Stan watched as cum dripped off his lip, a strand dangling between his mouth and Stan's dick.

  
  
  
  


" _ Oh… _ " Stan said, balling his fists into the sheets. Richie let Stan gawk a moment longer, before he broke the strand with his fingers and licked them. 

  
  
  
  


"Fuck, Richie." Stan gasped. "I didn't- I mean you  _ really- _ " his words dissolved into a provocative sigh. 

  
  
  
  


Richie crawled up in bed beside Stan, and kissed his neck, working down his jaw and towards his mouth, just before Stan flinched away. 

  
  
  
  


"Stanley…" Richie gave him a look. 

  
  
  
  


Stan looked back, stone-faced. Arms crossed.

  
  
  
  


There was Stan. Good old Stan. Classic Stan. 

  
  
  
  


"I'll brush my teeth." Richie said, rolling his eyes. 

  
  
  
  


"Thank you." 

  
  
  
  


Stan timed Richie with his Casio, making sure he brushed for two minutes. Richie choked on toothpaste the whole time, laughing, while Stan stood naked in the doorway watching him.

  
  
  
  


Richie rinsed his mouth out and grabbed Stan into a flurry of kisses. "Minty fresh?" 

  
  
  
  


Stan didn't say anything, he just grabbed Richie's hand and pulled him back to the bed. 

  
  
  
  


Stan fell onto the bed and pulled Richie down on top of him. Richie laughed on his way to the bed, his limbs all tangled in Stan's, and his face hovering above his. 

  
  
  
  


"I guess you want to cuddle, huh, Stanley?" Richie said, rubbing his nose against Stan's. 

  
  
  
  


Stan shook his head. He had a look in his eyes that Richie had never seen before. 

  
  
  
  


"No. Not yet " Stan bit his bottom lip while he worked up the courage to say the exact words. He took in a deep breath.

  
  
  
  


"Richie. I want you to fuck me." 

  
  
  
  


Richie's breath sped up. " _Holy_ _shit…_ " he whispered. 

  
  
  
  


Stan put his hand on Richie's cheek. "Do you want to fuck me, Richie?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded against Stan's face, kissing him with all the passion that had built up in his chest over the years, growing like vines around his heart from the moment they'd met. 

  
  
  
  


Stan slipped his thumb under the waistband of Richie's boxers. He started to tug them down. 

  
  
  
  


Richie, without breaking the kiss, reached down and took off his boxers, throwing them onto the floor. 

  
  
  
  


Stan tentatively reached out, softly brushing his hand over Richie's cock, and Richie moaned into his mouth. 

  
  
  
  


Stan understood what Richie had meant now. It felt wonderful. He could almost taste the desire. 

  
  
  
  


Stan pulled back, grinning. "I barely even touched you." 

  
  
  
  


Richie didn't respond, staring at Stan like he was the only thing on the planet. 

  
  
  
  


"I barely touched you, and you made the most beautiful noise." 

  
  
  
  


Richie tilted his head down. He always had the upper hand in these situations. He felt strange. He was exhilarated. He felt shy for the first time in his life. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan, you know what we've gotta do, before I can-"

  
  
  
  


Stan grabbed the bottle of lube and nodded. 

  
  
  
  


"I'm- I'm gonna do it myself, okay?" 

  
  
  
  


"...okay. Why?" 

  
  
  
  


"I don't… I know that considering what's about to happen, this is a stupid thing to be embarrassed about, but-" 

  
  
  
  


Richie draped an arm over Stan's shoulder and kissed him. "It's okay, Stan. You just tell me when you're ready and until then- I'm going to kiss you all over." 

  
  
  
  


Stan shivered slightly. "Okay. I just need to adjust my position." 

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded and scooted back as far as he could on the small bed. Stan laid on his back and spread his legs. He grabbed the bottle of lube and put what seemed like more than enough on his hand. Richie didn't say anything. He just stayed on his side and curled as closely as he could to Stan. 

  
  
  
  


Stan slowly began to prepare himself, and grunted with slight discomfort. Richie went back to kissing his neck. 

  
  
  
  


"It's going to get easier." He ran his hand over Stan's chest, stopping occasionally to rub his thumb over his nipples. Stan's breath was starting to even out. 

  
  
  
  


"It's going to feel good." Richie whispered, nibbling on Stan's ear. 

  
  
  
  


He kissed Stan's collar bone, then brought Stan's free hand to his mouth. He sucked on Stan's thumb, pulling it out of his mouth slowly. Stan watched in captivation. 

  
  
  
  


Richie trailed Stan's thumb over his own nipple. 

  
  
  
  


Stan gasped, and his back stiffened slightly. He tried to keep his gasps quiet but to no avail. 

  
  
  
  


Richie ran his hand up Stan's chest, then curled it around the side of his neck. Richie buried his face against Stan's cheek. 

  
  
  
  


" _ Beautiful… _ " he muttered to himself. 

  
  
  
  


"Okay. I'm ready, Richie."

  
  
  
  


"You're sure?" Richie asked, running his thumb over Stan's cheekbone. 

  
  
  
  


Stan looked at him with wild eyes. "Richie. I'm ready." 

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded and grabbed a condom out of the hollowed out Bible, then grabbed the bottle of lube, but Stan took it from him.

  
  
  
  


Richie looked up at him in confusion. 

  
  
  
  


"Give me the condom. I wanna do it." 

  
  
  
  


"I- alright." Richie said, handing it over. 

  
  
  
  


"A girl did this to me once." He said, putting the condom over his lips. 

  
  
  
  


"Oh." Richie said, with a smile. 

  
  
  
  


Stan leaned down, rolling the condom over Richie's dick with his mouth. He seemed a little unsure, but Richie was enraptured by the sight. 

  
  
  
  


Stan pulled back and squirted some lube onto his hand, stroking it down Richie's cock and rolling the condom all the way down. 

  
  
  
  


Richie closed his eyes for a moment. "Damn, Stan." He sighed. 

  
  
  
  


Stan laid back on the bed. He stared up at Richie. Richie opened his eyes and saw Stan's expression. It was so full of desire and somehow so innocent. Richie was getting lost again, just looking at him. Memorizing him. 

  
  
  
  


"Richie." Stan said, after a moment. 

  
  
  
  


"Mmm?" 

  
  
  
  


"Fuck me." 

  
  
  
  


Richie shuddered, then positioned himself. He was slow and careful, listening to every sound Stan made. Constantly asking,  _ is this okay, does it feel alright, am I hurting you?  _

  
  
  
  


Stan pulled Richie down into a kiss. "Richie, does it feel good to be inside me?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded, pressing his face into Stan's neck. 

  
  
  
  


"You can move, Richie." 

  
  
  
  


"I don't know if I can." Richie said, with a small snicker.

  
  
  
  


" _ Please _ ." 

  
  
  
  


That was enough to snap Richie out of his trance and into action. 

  
  
  
  


_ "Oh fuck… _ " Richie moaned into Stan's ear. Kissing him, touching him at all, that had been more than Richie had ever thought would happen. This was overwhelming. Nearing an out of body experience. Really getting to be with Stan… 

  
  
  
  


Richie was still reserved with his movements, soft and careful, placing closed mouth kisses along Stan's jaw and collarbone. 

  
  
  
  


Stan started to move his hips a little, trying to encourage more movement from Richie. 

  
  
  
  


"Jesus." Richie gasped. He leaned up to look at Stan. 

  
  
  
  


"Harder, Richie.  _ Fuck me _ ." 

  
  
  
  


Richie's heart seemed to stop for a moment as the words washed over him. 

  
  
  
  


"Come on. Pin me down and fuck me." 

  
  
  
  


"Pin-?" 

  
  
  
  


"My wrists, Richie." 

  
  
  
  


Richie took a deep breath, and grabbed Stan's wrists, pinning his hands up above his head. Stan threw his head back and closed his eyes. 

  
  
  
  


"I want it to feel good, Richie. I want it to feel so good you never want to leave this bed."

  
  
  
  


Having his own words used against him didn't usually work out in a favorable way, but this was more than welcome. 

  
  
  
  


Richie started to move his hips again, faster than before. 

  
  
  
  


Stan groaned. 

  
  
  
  


"This good?" Richie whispered.

  
  
  
  


Stan nodded. "Is it good for you?" 

  
  
  
  


"Y-yeah." 

  
  
  
  


"Richie, what did you always want to do to me? When you thought about me?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie breathed heavily. "This." 

  
  
  
  


"Then do it how you want to, Richie." 

  
  
  
  


Richie moaned, thrusting harder. He let go of Stan's wrists and ran his hands down his sides. He kissed Stan's chest and stomach. He curled his hand around Stan's shoulder for leverage, and started to kiss him. He kept having to pull away, moaning and sighing loudly. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan, this feels...so good." He kissed the words onto his skin. "You feel so good." Richie could breathe well enough only to moan and speak sporadically. 

  
  
  
  


"God...Oh,  _ God… _ " 

  
  
  
  


Richie leaned his head onto Stan's. Stan stared at him and put his hand on the back of Richie's neck.

  
  
  
  


Richie's movements were losing any grace they had once had. They were erratic and needy. His moans were louder and full of longing and...gratitude? Was that what Stan was hearing? 

  
  
  
  


_ "Stan. Stan…"  _

  
  
  
  


"Go on. I want you to cum, Richie. Kiss me while you cum."

  
  
  
  


Stan drew Richie down into a sloppy kiss. Richie couldn't keep the contact, as hard as he tried. He let out a final moan, deep and satisfied, and the arm propping him up gave out. 

  
  
  
  


He pulled out of Stan and slumped onto his side, then pulled Stan so he was facing him. 

  
  
  
  


He took Stan's face into his hands and kissed him all over. 

  
  
  
  


"Stan. You're amazing, Stan." He ran his hand over Stan's hair. "God, I just-" Richie sighed.

  
  
  
  


Stan smiled at Richie, then furrowed his eyebrows. 

  
  
  
  


"Isn't that- aren't you uncomfortable?" 

  
  
  
  


"I don't want to let go of you." He said, stroking Stan's cheek with the back of his hand. 

  
  
  
  


"I'm not going anywhere." Stan said, grabbing Richie's wrist and kissing the back of his hand. "You need to wash up. We need to wash up." Stan insisted. 

  
  
  
  


"Mmmm." Richie nodded. "Let's get you in the shower." 

  
  
  
  


Stan raised his eyebrows. 

  
  
  
  


"Don't get excited." Richie replied. "Shower's too small for two people. College dorm architects sure know how to take the fun out of everything." 

  
  
  
  


Stan laughed. 

  
  
  
  


"Well, I'll have to make sure I transfer to a school with bigger bathrooms." 

  
  
  
  


"As long as you give me a ring once you get there." 

  
  
  
  


Stan smiled sadly and nodded.

  
  
  
  


"Go on. You have a bus to catch in the morning, don't you want to get some sleep?" 

  
  
  
  


Stan nestled his face against Richie's. "Will you sleep beside me?" 

  
  
  
  


Richie nodded against him. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." 

  
  
  
  


_ I'll love you forever. _

  
  
  
  


The thought went through their minds at the same moment, but neither said anything. 

  
  
  
  


They had to enjoy knowing it while they still could. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I did make a whole fucking separate account for smut. I'm a coward, but only like 70% 
> 
> If you have pairing requests or prompts, HMU on Twitter @midnightslug


End file.
